


1.4 meters to victory

by Peruse



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen, Gen Work, I mean you can see this as shippy if you'd like i left it open to interpretation in either way, Spies & Secret Agents, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:42:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23744026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peruse/pseuds/Peruse
Summary: Personally, Jazz usually thought Prowl's voice had a nice timbre to it; a collected smooth reassurance.Usually was the keyword because right now, Jazz couldn’t think of a more annoying voice on this side of Cybertron.“1.4 meters, Jazz.”Jazz knew that. He knew it the first time and he still knew it the next four times Prowl had said it. The mech was like clockwork and the ops agent would bet he’d hear from him in another quarter groon. The worst part was Prowl was right.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 54





	1.4 meters to victory

**Author's Note:**

> So this was originally a prompt from Tumblr by a friend, which was “jazz, mirage, prowl: hallucination”
> 
> This is in fact one of the first times I’ve ever written jazz…or Mirage really. For being a Jazz fan, he's so annoying to write, ugh. So turns out, it's all coincidentally Prowl week, huzzah! So happy Prowl Week y’all!
> 
> If you wanna hit me up, you can find me @BestPeruse on tumblr!

If there was something Jazz could say about Prowl, it was that the mech had a clear voice. It was strong and resolute, honed from years of meetings and battles. It was a voice that needed to be heard, _demanded_ to be heard and it showed. And personally, Jazz usually thought it had a nice timbre to it, a collected smooth reassurance.

 _Usually_ was the keyword because right now, Jazz couldn’t think of a more annoying voice on this side of Cybertron.

“1.4 meters, Jazz.”

Jazz _knew_ that. He knew it the first time and he still knew it the next four times Prowl had said it. The mech was like clockwork and the ops agent would bet he’d hear from him in another quarter groon. The worst part was Prowl was _right_. And if he had said it five times now, then Jazz had been loitering for over a groon. If he was in a better mood, he’d appreciate the calm collected tone but right now, it just felt mocking.

Instead of responding, even in his own processor, Jazz forced his visor into a hard reboot. The result was the same mix of polygons and static, but he didn’t waste the time to frown; self-repair hadn’t gotten around there yet and there was no point of whining about it.

Jazz tilted his helm to face the room and his fingers twitched into the wall. A quick sweep around the room matched the primary scans as before: same results as the last two groons.

His energon levels were below 30% but if he played his cards right, he’d get out and to the checkpoint with over 10%. Mirage should have extraction rations and he should be back in Ratchet’s care along the top 40 before he could Strut.

Jazz snickered to himself and activated his ops mags. In a single, smooth motion, he dropped from his alcove, landed in a quick roll, and pushed himself flush against the wall. His hand hovered above his subspace and he dismissed the alerts scrolling across his HUD; they were glitched and corrupted anyway.

He couldn’t hear anything outside the door, but Jazz wasn’t surprised. Apparently the bots needed to boost their Intel because so far it seemed that every nook and cranny on the Nemesis had fancy new dampeners. He couldn’t even hear his own magnets buzzing in his armor.

Either Primus must’ve been on his side, or the dampeners worked both ways, because no one came in to investigate. Jazz rolled his good shoulder, as long as he was moving as quiet as Mirage, then he’d worry about the rest later.

“Good job, Jazz. It will be 1.4 meters.”

If his visor wasn’t broken, Jazz would’ve rolled his optics. Yea, 1.4 meters. When he got back he _so_ needed to update Prowl on extraction protocols, 1.4 meters wasn’t helpful without a direction. Jazz manually cleared the thought from his processor and focused on the door: get out now, yell at Prowl later.

The next few breems were a haze in Jazz’s processor, with the dampeners every step felt like twenty and his own reserves seemed to drain twice as fast. He barely made it a meter before his levels dropped to 19%. Cursing, he cut the mags. Instantly his shoulder buckled and Jazz stumbled against the wall. Frag.

His vision bled more static than shapes and the ops mech gave a low, long hiss. He resisted the urge to shake his head, it wouldn’t do anything but make him feel worse. Instead, Jazz took a shaky in-vent and pressed on, it was a fork in the road-

“Jazz, continue on the left.”

Jazz went left.

The hallway was empty beyond the occasional door, a quick glance showed that his visor was still too scrambled to make out any designations or numbers. Jazz kept his bad shoulder to the wall as he crept forward.

It was beyond quiet; too quiet, too empty. He couldn’t even hear his shoulder, even if he could feel the grinding parts with each step **.** The bay lacked the hustle and bustle of base. If Jazz’s mental map was right, then this was the secondary emergency hatch for flooding and ever since the cons crash landing part two, it was usually as busy as main hall. And all without a mech to be seen. It was beyond suspicious, but Jazz didn’t have the effort to worry about it. Either way, it was a new level of paranoia to sit on his circuits.

A vibration under his peds was the only alert that something was wrong. Instantly, Jazz threw himself backwards to the nearest door, it opened easily and the smell of iodine hit him; a closet. His shoulders jostled against the shelves and he slammed the door closed. It was a cramped fit, his toes brushed the door and his shoulder rattled, but his fingers only found empty shelves. Something was wet, but his processor was too fragmented to identify it. The vibrations continued on seemingly forever and unwillingly, Jazz slowly slumped into the cabinets.

As per usual for Prowl, he had the best and worst timing.

“Jazz, continue on this corridor for 9 meters. Mirage is waiting at the extraction point.”

Which Jazz _knew_ , because he was the one who wrote and signed Mirage’s papers. He couldn’t feel the vibrations and he pushed himself forward.

“Jazz, Mirage is-“

Jazz tuned him out and limped forward. Besides the previous unknown, the corridor was still abandoned and at this point, Jazz wasn’t gonna go count his sins.

“Jazz, Mirage.”

Mirage? Mirage what? That wasn’t even a-

“Commander?”

The word was whispered, far too close and jazz’s visor darted to the left. Other than the fractal shape of the wall, he was still running on echo.

“...’Raj?” He sounded like slag but he didn’t have the energy to waste apologizing for it. There was no reason for Mirage to be here. Sure, Jazz’s chrono was broken, but he couldn’t be running that late, Mirage should’ve been a cyber-mile out, safe at the site. Not at Ground Z with him.

A hand shifted its way under his bad shoulder, but Jazz didn’t let the spy take his weight.

“Sitrep.”

Mirage’s footing changed and his ankle tapped Jazz’s twice in quick succession. In the same motion, the spy moved to take more of his weight and Jazz let him. He gave out a low sigh as the pressure eased off his shoulder and Mirage immediately picked up a fast pace to the hatch; Jazz stumbled, but forced himself to follow.

“You did not return to the Landing Zone and I came to extract you. Comm attempts failed and thus”, Mirage took the lull to hike the mech further up his side, “I took the liberty to assume you were compromised.”

Jazz laughed, happy to have Mirage take the lead. Another notification flashed on his HUD and he dismissed it.

“Ain’t sure if I’d use compromised.”

Mirage didn’t respond.

Instead the spy’s grip tightened and he hurried forward. Jazz almost wanted to tell him to slow down, his peds were getting tangled under him and they were going so fast that his visor couldn’t keep up. Instead, he just focused on one step at a time.

“The extraction point is a kilo after we reach land.” Jazz frowned, a kilo? That was way too close, what was he _thinking_ \- but Mirage didn’t allow him to respond. “Ratchet has been alerted and is en route. Hound is running interference outside to keep us under sight. Thankfully, our Intel was correct and with the excess of crude oil the Decepticons stole, the explosives you set off started a chain reaction.”

They reached the ramp and no sooner did Jazz feel the off vibrations, his visor flickered but whatever result it gave, Jazz couldn’t tell. Either way, he knew those vibrations, the way they seemed to impact the very air itself charging ions and ozone; Hound.

“Ratchet? But what about Prowl.”

Mirage’s grip tightened.

“Commander, your emergency operations protocols have been initiated. You are heavily damaged, I went to find you and I did not expect you to have made your way so close to the extraction point. Currently, your audials are offline as well as your long-distance comms; we have been communicating through short-range frequency after I connected to your signal in the passage. Ratchet was called when you did not check in after the emergency mark.”

The floodgates open and Jazz tripped. More alerts scrolled by him and Jazz suddenly realized he couldn’t tell primary notices from secondary. They were out of the ship, but it was still silent. He could sense Hound’s EM field, but couldn’t feel him; it was stretched out so Jazz wouldn’t startle. He felt another set of vibrations and hand clasped itself on his good shoulder.

The hand squeezed his shoulder once before his arm was hooked around Hound’s neck. The mech took his weight easily and their pace picked up ten-fold. Jazz laughed softly and dropped his head to Mirage’s shoulder.

“Prowl?”  
  
“Both Prime and Prowl will be alerted when we reach base. The mission was a success.”

But…

Jazz’s helm hurt, all of him hurt really, the world was a dizzy mess of lines and what Mirage said made no sense, but Mirage wouldn’t lie. Another alert popped up on his HUD, he couldn’t read the words but he mostly recognized the symbol.

“Hey ‘raj, you think you or Ratchet have extra reserves? I’m pulling the top 5 right now.”

He felt the scampering before anything else; heavy steps and quick treads. The field hit him like a bomb, the second one for today. But Ratchet always that had impact on people.

Jazz barely managed a smile before he felt rushed nonsense and a strong vibrato that was distinctive to medics. He felt the quicksilver rush of a scan and a hand on his good shoulder, his helm was tilted and he felt the cool rush of medical coding slide across his systems. Then Jazz knew nothing else.

He’d ask Prowl later.

**Author's Note:**

> So! One of my favorite things that people don’t ever talk about is that Jazz is in-fact a Saboteur, which is so much more than just a spy! ...even though he gets blown up just a bit. Part of the job, y’know? 
> 
> But fun fact, this is the first time I've really written Prowl too....but well, Prowl's not exactly here, is he?
> 
> If anyone has any tag suggestions, let me know!


End file.
